The Will of the Lion
by Anouka
Summary: There was one Narnian who knew that hunting the Stag would bring about dire consequences. Golden Age: One-Shot


**The Will of the Lion**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Summary: **There was one who knew that hunting the Stag would bring about dire consequences. Yet still, they prevailed.

There are things that we regret. Things in our past that we wish we could change. A wise Centaur once told me that fate's design is already set in stone, but sometimes I wonder. I do not presume that we can change the whole of the future, for that would be foolish. But the futures that affect us… the futures that we set ourselves; with a little pre-warning, could we not change them? For twenty-five years we ruled Narnia. Sought out those who still worshipped the Witch, and made sure they could bring harm to no one. Brought peace to our country – with the Graces of Aslan – and fought battles to protect that peace, those people. Each and every one of us would have died happily for Narnia, I think.

We were more than willing to spend the rest of our lives there; more than willing to be lain to rest in the blessed land of Aslan once our journey was through. But, sadly, the Great Lion had other plans in mind. And when He roared, we did not ignore.

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Three days to Peter's thirty-eighth birthday, came the tide that would change our destinies. Susan and Lucy were in their rooms, planning out what they wanted to be a rather spectacular feast in honour of our dear brother and High King, whilst I was working on the guest list they had assigned me. Peter himself was in council, so we were not to be interrupted any time soon. He had asked me not to attend this particular session, and though I confess to a little hurt, I agreed, knowing better than to argue with my brother, for usually there was a good reason. Most likely, he was trying to protect me from something.

My thoughts were interrupted by something breathing upon me. I span on my chair, my hand on the hilt of my sword; but all thoughts of attack quickly faded as the face of Aslan smiled upon me. I dropped to my feet, kneeling before him. "Great Lion," I murmured. "You honour us with Your presence here."

"Son of Adam," His warm breath enveloped me, and I lifted my head, stunned by the seeming sadness on His face. "Beloved Son, there are trials yet ahead of you and your family. My stomach froze. I thought of one enemy instantly, but quickly banished the thought. Aslan had already assured us, many years ago, that She would never return; and I trusted His word; He would never lie to us. "Peace, Dear Son. The trial I speak of is not one that will bring strife to Narnia, but to you and your family." His eyes met mine, and I shuddered a little, feeling ill for reasons I couldn't understand. "Edmund, Just King, and brother to three; will you do My bidding, and trust in Me?" I opened my mouth, and a low growl sounded from the Lion, quickly causing me to pause. "Choose your answer carefully, Dear Son. For the task I set you is not one that you will be happy in carrying out."

I took a slow breath, considered this carefully. By all accounts, it almost sounded like death was at our very door. I looked up, into the Lion's golden eyes. "Before I answer, O Aslan," Started I, softly. "Will You promise me that what we speak of will not harm my family?"

"There may be hurt, King Edmund." I swallowed, biting my lip. "There may be pain, and there may be tears. But trust that the task I set is one that must be done. Do you accept my words, King Edmund the Just?"

I closed my eyes, my heart torn. I did not want to cause my brother or my sisters' pain. I had done that enough in the past. They deserved happiness, did they not? And why, out of all the people on Aslan's land, would he ask this of _me_? Swallowing a little, I tasted bile, but ignored it, taking a slow breath. I had learned first-hand what it meant to deny Aslan's will; there were always consequences, and they usually had impact in such a way that it was better to follow than ignore. "I am Your servant and rule only under Your Paws, Great Lion." I answered eventually. "Whatever task You set, I will obey."

"Well spoken, Son of Adam." His voice rumbled about me, and I shivered, wishing I did not feel so very, very cold inside. "Your task, My Son, is this, and this alone; you must follow the White Stag."

A raised eyebrow; and my head jolted up. "The Stag?" I breathed, not understanding in the least, but knowing enough of Narnian legend to be somewhat awed by this strange task. "It has been spotted?"

"_He_ has," The Lion's voice sounded a little amused. "You will hear word in a few days, King Edmund. By all accounts, you must follow him, as well as your siblings. Do you accept your challenge, King Edmund?"

Oh Aslan, what have You planned for us? Something here stinks of hurt, but I do not know what it is, and besides, it is foolish to deny You. I clenched my hands, swallowing back my emotions. When I spoke, I was somewhat grateful for the way that my voice did not tremble. "I receive Your words," Said I, "And I accept the task You set me, and trust that You know the fate you have set out."

When I opened my eyes again, the Lion was gone. I crumbled to my knees, my breathing harsh as I sobbed out the Lion's name, begging contrition, begging redemption. None came; only the sound of birds chattering outside filled my ears.

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Now, two weeks after our return, I watch Peter try to grasp his own strength once more. It is strange to see him so young. Strange to hear his almost-adult voice, and strange to see him without a beard, with bright blonde hair instead of the sandy colour it had become. Susan is changed, also. Back to the subdued girl who said little but thought far too much, often drawing herself into a deep silence. No longer a beauty, but on the verge of being so: her hair at shoulder length once again. Lucy is still bright and happy, but the wisdom of age in her eyes is a little diminished.

We are all changed… and it is truly my fault. I dare not tell Peter of Aslan's words to me that night. I dare not confess that I knew we should follow the Stag, and that it would bring about something most horrid. I did _not_ know it would draw us from our home, and back into England; cold, hapless England that believes in war and suffering, rather than freedom, peace and hope. Oh Narnia, our Land… how we miss thee. In the Professor we have found an unlikely friend, and oft have we talked of our tales, but it is not the same. It is not the same as being there, breathing in Narnian air, and knowing that you belong.

At night, I watch the stars, remember lessons with Centaurs, and pray most reverently that our country is safe. After all, it is my fault we are here.

Cold, damp, dank England can never compare to our happy and glorious Kingdom. There may be reasons for Aslan's wish that I have not yet understood. I must have faith in the Lion, though. Faith that one day, we will return. Faith that somehow: Narnia will continue without us.

**Finis.**

**Author's N:** Thoughts, comments and criticisms are much appreciated.


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